


You Always Meet Twice

by nerdqueenenterprise



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blowjobs, M/M, One Night Stands, Phil POV, Pining, porn with a small amount of plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-19
Updated: 2017-09-19
Packaged: 2018-12-31 13:58:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12133974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdqueenenterprise/pseuds/nerdqueenenterprise
Summary: Phil just got his second PhD and manages to pick up the best looking guy in the whole galaxy at a party. He has the night of his life with the guy, who gives Phil an obviously fake name, and then he's gone after breakfast, leaving Phil wanting more.Almost six years later, Phil comes back from his assignment to become CMO under Captain Pike on the newYorktown.





	You Always Meet Twice

The only reasons Phil'd attended the party were the free drinks and a hope to get lucky tonight. He figured he'd earned it, considering he was only a month shy of his twenty-eight birthday and just got his second PhD in advanced intracellular medicine. The party is for some admiral's kid graduating, or getting a promotion, or whatever - another stuck up brat believing they deserve the world because they were born into money and status. But the event itself is alright, enough pretty young officers milling around between Starfleet's nobility, and the drinks are damn good. Whoever's paying for this must've shelled out half a starship in credits.

For Phil it's a bit weird to be among people again in a normal setting. The past months - years? eternity? - he'd divided his time between the hospital and the labs and the library, been in his apartment only for sleeping. He figures he lost some weight and quite some normal socialization skill, but see if he cares.

He flags the bartender down for another cocktail. Apple martini, god's gift to mankind. Fruity enough to be very tasty, but not masking the sting of the alcohol.

He peruses the room, trying to find a person who's just his type to take home tonight. The gently thumping base is sending shivers up his spine, and the dance floor is slowly dissolving into displays of youthful wantonness that surely scandalize the brass. Phil observes a couple for a while, both drinks in hand and hair flowing freely, and laughing, obviously having the time of their lives. They might not be his preferred gender (god what wouldn't he give for a hard, hairy chest pressing him into the mattress, deep voice panting into his ear and a cock up his ass), but damn if they don't get his blood flowing. It's definitely been too long. His heart is beating in time with the music and he's starting to tingle all over, eyes following the sway of the bodies. His pants are getting more uncomfortable by the second.

      "This seat taken?" a voice straight out of a dirty fantasy asks. Phil turns around to lay eyes on the most sinfully beautiful man he's ever seen in his life, uniform sharp and utterly perfect, unruly, dark blond hair on his head long enough to pull on, and a set of lips and eyes that make his knees go weak and Phil decides that yes, that's the guy he's going to take home with him. He rakes his eyes over him slowly, noticing how the other man is built, long strong legs (perfect for wrapping around Phil's waist), narrow hips and broad shoulders with strong arms (perfect for shoving Phil face first into the mattress), and a smile that's liquid heat in Phil's groin.

      "All yours." He motions to the stool.

      "Oh, I bet," gorgeous says, eyes wandering over Phil's body as well, stopping at the very prominent bulge between his legs for a few long moments. Phil doesn't even bother putting himself less on display. He wants and so does the stranger.

      "You come here often?" tall-and-beautiful asks with a smirk. He's a teaser. Fuck, how'd Phil get so lucky?

He's also somewhere high-ranking - Phil can't exactly make out his number of stars or the stripes on his sleeves, but he's not anybody.

      "Yeah, love these parties, they let me pick up anyone with a nice set of promotions and a pretty face."

Pretty face laughs and signals the bartender for a whiskey. "So I'm here to fulfil your dirty fantasy of getting fucked by an officer, that right?"

Phil notices his hands, beautiful long fingers, perfect for several tasks, no doubt, and he leans a bit closer. "Who says I'm the one getting fucked?". It’s a tease, too - Phil is far too desperate to be the one doing the fucking.

Probably-has-a-trust-fund (come on, he has the bearing of someone who does, and he's far too young for all those pretty pins on his chest) laughs (beautifully, of course) and steals a swipe of the frosted sugar on the rim of Phil's glass, sucking on his finger far longer than necessary.

 

      "I do." and takes a sip of his whiskey without his eyes ever leaving Phil.

There's a drop of whiskey left on his lips and Phil leans forward to swipe his tongue over it.

It's damn fine whiskey, and a damn fine guy Phil chose. A hand wanders up his thigh, stopping short of the junction between leg and torso, and Phil twitches in his pants.

      "I'm Phil," he says an inch away from beautiful's lips, and the other guy grins, running his thumb over Phil's lips. Phil bites, gently. He gets a harsh inhale and an even hungrier stare in response.

      "Aren't you gonna tell me what name to scream later?" he asks, letting go of the thumb.

      "I'm ... Chris."

Phil snorts. "Wow, that's certainly not a fake name at all."

'Chris' rolls his eyes. "Does it really matter? I plan on fucking you until you don't even remember  _ your _ name." His hand nudges a bit closer to Phil's groin and he shifts his hips forward, knees brushing his.

      "Fair," he admits. "Your place or mine? I live a couple minutes down the street, so unless you've got somewhere closer ..."

      "Nope. Been living shipside for quite a while now, don't even got a place down here."

      "My place it is then."

They both stand up almost at the same time, and all of a sudden they're really close, close enough to smell, and part of Phil wants to press him against the bar and rub himself all over.

      "Hope you've got a sturdy bed," is whispered into his ear, and Phil's dick twitches. He steps even further until they're pretty much pressed up against each other.

      "Got a new one recently. You might have to help me break it in. Properly." It's a lie, but the grin on 'Chris' face is more than worth it.

      "What are we waiting for, then?"

 

They make their way towards the entrance. 'Chris' stays a few steps behind Phil, who's ass is practically burning with the intensity it's being stared at.

The cold night air is a bit sobering, but 'Chris' immediately catches up to Phil and walks so close that their shoulders brush.

    "So, Phil. What's a pretty young doctor doing on a promo party for someone he probably doesn't know?"

    "How'd you know I was a doctor?"

    "Oh, please. I can read insignia."

    "Fair enough."

    "So?"

Phil turns towards 'Chris' and winks. "I was hoping to find exactly you."

    "What makes me so special?"

    "You're hot."

'Chris' grins lazily. "So you're saying you were taking advantage of the party to get laid? I'm scandalized."

    "Oh, I figure I earned it. Had a minor breakthrough a couple weeks ago that led to the invention of a new vaccine, and I got my second PhD today. You know, regular stuff, so I figured I more than had reason to celebrate. What about you?" Bragging is generally not nice and not Phil’s thing at all. This is an exception, because he’s sure ‘Chris’ (or whatever his name is) is into it.

    "That's an impressive vita you got there," 'Chris' says and looks Phil over again. "So you're not just pretty but also intelligent?"

    "That something you into? Want me to whisper microscopic intracellular biology into your ear while I fuck you?"

    "You could make it work, darlin’. Thought we had agreed I was going to be the one doing the fucking though?"

Phil laughs. "Aw, I thought you were young enough to get it up more than once."

'Chris' laughs as well. "Touché."

    "You speak French?"

    "Nah. German. You?"

    "Surprise, yes I do." Phil nudges him sideways a little to get into the entrance to his apartment building.

'Chris' whistles lowly. "Nice place. So how do I get you to talk French to me?"

Phil makes for the lifts. "J'espère vraiment que vous êtes prêt à vous embrasser dans l'ascenseur."

'Chris' catches up with him. "Fuck that's hot. What'd you say?"

    "Non, rien. À peu près combien je veux que vous me baisez," he says, punching in his floor number. 'Chris' is incredibly close and, judging by the bulge in his pants, incredibly aroused. God, Phil can't wait.

    "Again, no fucking clue what you said, but it's hot. Then again, you could talk about world’s most boring topic and make it the hottest thing I ever heard, no matter the language." He moves in even closer. The railing of the elevator presses against Phil's back. 'Chris' smells fantastic. There's a hand on Phil's jaw and his self control breaks, grabbing 'Chris' by the lapels of his jacket, turning him around and shoving him ungently against the wall, kissing him. 'Chris' moans into the kiss, hands immediately sliding into Phil's hair and pawing at his dress jacket. There's a thigh pushing its way between Phil's legs and he grinds against it, gasping into the kiss. 'Chris' is burning hot, tongue sliding against Phil's, deliciously filthy.

They pull away to gasp for air.

    "Fuck, if you fuck the way you kiss, I definitely only ever want to be on the receiving end," Phil pants out and 'Chris' laughs.

The elevator chimes, announcing their stop. Phil pulls 'Chris' out by his jacket, immediately shoving him against the next wall to kiss him again. 'Chris' rocks his hips forward, and they both moan.

    "Please tell me your apartment isn't, dunno, at the end of the hall," 'Chris' pants. Phil laughs and disentangles himself.

    "Sorry."

There's a possessive hand on his ass the second he turns around. He grabs 'Chris' other hand and pulls him with him. 'Chris' manages to press fleeting bites and kisses into Phil's neck as they walk, and hell, usually Phil would rather murder people than let them mark him in such a public place. But ... damn, he wants this gorgeous stranger to mark him everywhere, wants him to do everything he ever wanted.

He fumbles the door code because 'Chris' is pressing up so hot and hard against his side, breath fanning over Phil's face whenever he stops kissing at the junction of his ear and jaw (and how does he know it's one of Phil's most sensitive places, that you can drive him wild by just stimulating him there?), and then the door opens and they fall inside, lights flickering on but all Phil can focus on is tearing 'Chris' uniform off of him.

There’s a sudden rip and the strain on Phil’s hands lessens considerably as he’s now holding a rather large piece of fabric that isn’t attached to ‘Chris‘ jacket anymore. It’s the front part, the one with all the little medals and whatnot. Holy shit. Phil is so screwed.

    “Fuck, that was hot,” ‘Chris’ gasps and he’s incredibly aroused, draped against the wall like Lust herself

Phil’s still frozen in shock, so ‘Chris’ shoves him back, tearing at Phil’s dress jacket too, a bit more artfully. They stumble against the couch just as his jacket hits the floor, and Phil’s brain is back online enough that he can wrap his arms around ‘Chris’’ neck to tug him in for another heated kiss, both of them struggling with ‘Chris’’ jacket now. Then it’s gone and ‘Chris’ breaks the kiss to shove his hands under Phil’s undershirt, biting at his neck again. Phil arches his back and tugs at the dirty blonde curls until ‘Chris’ actually bites down.

His undershirt bunches up around his armpits uncomfortably, but the way ‘Chris’ all but attacks his nipples more than makes up for it, biting, kissing, sucking, licking and doing everything to make Phil gasp and press up against him. He presses a knee up and ‘Chris’ groans appreciatively, rolling his hips against it while he’s panting hot wet breath over Phil’s stomach.

    “Bed. Now,” Phil orders, surging up to kiss ‘Chris’ again and push him backwards. His erection lines up perfectly with ‘Chris’’ and he rolls his hips, making his partner moan and pull him closer. There’s a hand in Phil’s hair and another one on his ass and a tongue in his mouth and the heat of another person so, so close. ‘Chris’ smells like pure male sex, tasting of whiskey. The angle changes suddenly, ‘Chris’ grunting as the couch leaves them. 'Fuck, he’s strong enough to lift me up’, Phil thinks. It’s exhilarating.

‘Chris’ carries them to the wall they started at, pinning Phil with his hips. Their trapped erections press exactly against each other. ‘Chris’ thrusts a little in time with the movements of his tongue, sending bolts of arousal through Phil. God, he could come like this.

‘Chris’ works a hand between their bodies, pushing against Phil’s dick, and he moans, because fuck, fuck, if ‘Chris’ keeps that up Phil will come in his pants and that’d be embarrassing.

‘Chris’ pulls away from the kiss, dropping his forehead against Phil’s shoulder for a moment. He’s panting, shoulders heaving, and neither of them can seem to stop rolling their hips.

    “Fuck,” ‘Chris’ swears and Phil laughs, a bit out of breath.

    “Yes please.”

He gets a growl and a bite to the nape of his neck, and then ‘Chris’’ hand is tugging at his pants, fumbling with the fastening, each movement another shower of sparks through Phil’s groin.

    “Fuck, thought you were gonna take me to bed,” Phil pants, head falling against the wall and eyes sliding shut. ‘Chris’’ knows what he’s doing, hot damn.

    “I’m gonna let you down,” ‘Chris’ pants. “And then I’m going to suck your dick until you cry.”

Phil’s legs wobble as they hit the floor again and are forced to hold up his own weight. ‘Chris’ drops onto his knees, eyes glittering and a dirty smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. He nuzzles the bulge in Phil’s pants and Phil threads a hand into his hair, trying to tug him forward.

    “You better behave yourself,” the sex god at his feet growls. He tugs Phil’s pants down roughly and immediately rubs his cheek against Phil’s groin. There’s a hint of stubble that adds a wonderful rasping sensation. He raises up a bit to mouth at the clothed head of Phil’s dick, dampening his underwear.

He takes his goddamn time too, tugging Phil’s boxers off with his teeth, and when they’re finally sitting snugly under his balls Phil is teetering at the edge.

‘Chris’ sits back with the smug satisfaction of someone who knows exactly that. His hair feels good in Phil’s hand, and he keeps licking his lips, not taking his eyes off of Phil’s cock.

    “Fuck, this is probably a really fucking bad idea, but I’m assuming since you’re a doc, your physicals are all good?”

He wants to blow Phil without barrier film. Fuck.

    “Yeah. Yeah, of course,” Phil rasps out against the blood rushing in his ears, and then there’s a set of hands on his hips and a hot tongue running up the length of his cock and the world fades out around him.

‘Chris’ swallows him down easily, bobbing his head around Phil for a while, hitting an almost-gag reflex every single time. Phil wants to buck into ‘Chris’’ mouth but he can't move with ‘Chris’’ hands fixing him to the wall like steel bolts, so he settles for holding on to his wrist and another hand in ‘Chris’’ hair.

He pulls off with a dirty slurping sound, grinning up to Phil, wiping his saliva-slick chin with the back of his hand before going right back in, kissing his balls almost gently (and that’s a sensation Phil would definitely like a repeat performance of), licking and sucking his way up to the tip again, tongue flicking out to nudge under the head of Phil’s dick.

Phil shouts with the sudden pleasure, doubling over, both hands shooting into ‘Chris’’ hair, trying to coax him to take his dick in his mouth again, but ‘Chris’ remains stubborn.

    “I take it that this was a good spot?” he asks when Phil has recovered a little, and Phil laughs.

    “Fuck, yes that was a good spot. Don’t fucking do that again or I’ll come.”

‘Chris’ takes a moment, and then he grins. “Hope your refractory period is good.”

He licks his lips again and then presses against that exact spot again before quickly taking only the head in his mouth, suckling and curling his tongue under the mushroom head of Phil’s cock, pressing and probing. Phil wants to hold off, wants to last so badly.

He comes with a shout, grip on ‘Chris’’ hair tightening and his head slamming against the wall.

    “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chants, almost delirious with how lightheaded he’s getting. ‘Chris’ laughs around his dick and pulls off, pressing a parting kiss to the head. There’s a drop of come in the corner of ‘Chris’’ mouth and he licks it off, eyes never leaving Phil’s.

‘Chris’ gets up and stretches, shirt riding up to reveal a taut stomach. Phil stumbles a bit over the pants around his ankles, but he manages to grab ‘Chris’ and kiss him thoroughly. The other man groans into the kiss.

    “Bed,” Phil repeats, pulling away a little, and ‘Chris’ grins.

    “Whatever you say, sweetheart.”

Phil lets go of him to toe off his shoes and shove his pants down and his shirt off. ‘Chris’ watches him, eyes glittering.

    “Damn, you’re tasty,” he mutters.

Phil kicks his pants away and steps up to ‘Chris’, running his hands over his chest.

    “Speak for yourself. Didn’t know a blowjob this good was even possible.” He leans in to mouth at ‘Chris’’ neck, and the other man lets his head fall sideways, breath shivering in his throat.

He goes willingly when Phil nudges him in the direction of the bedroom, hands pliant at Phil’s sides. His eyes scrunch close against the sensation of Phil nuzzling his throat, occasionally making tiny sounds. It’s a bit odd how quickly they went from tearing each other’s clothes off to almost-reverence, odd how they seem to fall in orbit around each other that quickly. For a moment it scares Phil, the implication that there’s maybe something more between them, that maybe he’ll still be thinking about this stranger in twenty years, missing him. Then he nudges ‘Chris’’ erection and 'Chris' moans, high and needy, and all rational thought is gone from Phil’s mind. He shoves the other man down on his bed.

‘Chris’ sprawls beautifully atop of it, a picture of sheer wantonness and arrogance, gold blond hair like straight out of a stupid shampoo commercial, smirk on his face. He's without doubt thoroughly and utterly aroused.

Phil runs a hand over ‘Chris’’ knee and thigh, the thick fabric of his pants not allowing him to fully feel the hot skin underneath. The shirt is a little more forthcoming, bleeding heat and ‘Chris’’ heartbeat through. Phil meets his eyes. They’re dark, fixed on Phil like ‘Chris’ wants to eat him. A bit of tongue is peeking out from ‘Chris’’ lips; they’re glistening with spit and are a beautiful, swollen red.

    “I think you’re overdressed,” Phil says, heart beating fast in excitement.

    “Help me undress?” ‘Chris’ has the audacity to wink.

Phil straddles him slowly, grinding his naked ass down against ‘Chris’’ crotch, and the beautiful stranger goes cross-eyed for a moment.

    “Fucking stop teasing already, Phil. Please.”

Phil laughs. He’s pretty sure he could come a second time, probably a third if they take it slow, and he loves the feeling of ‘Chris’ squirming under him.

    “What if I wanted to tease you until you can’t take it anymore and have your wicked way with me?” he suggests, smiling innocently.

‘Chris’ swallows and runs his hands over Phil’s thighs, up to his hips, guiding the rocking movement.

    “Hell, I mean,” he clears his throat, “I wouldn’t complain, but please. Please.” He rocks his hips up into Phil, who feels weirdly powerful. There’s nothing really keeping ‘Chris’ from doing what he wants, and yet he’s still under Phil, shuddering with every roll of Phil’s hips.

Phil trails his fingers over ‘Chris’’ chest and begins playing with the buttons, opening them one after another, until he can properly admire the expanse of skin before him. He runs his hand through the dark curls and plays with ‘Chris’’ nipples. ‘Chris’ goes entirely breathy.

Phil leans down some more and mouths at the base of ‘Chris’’ neck, flicking his tongue out to taste the skin, breath fanning over ‘Chris’, who moans, high and entirely lost to the sensation.

    “If you finger me,” he whispers into ‘Chris’’ neck. “If you finger me really good, almost make me come from it, make me beg for it, and if you don’t come at all nor touch yourself during it, my ass is all yours.”

‘Chris’ shudders in response, still gasping for breath. “Fuck. Fuck, yeah, fuck, I can do that, oh God, I can do that, please, please let me.”

Phil grins and slides off of ‘Chris’, watching as the other man collects himself, wetting his lips and trying to control his breathing. He sits up eventually, cheeks flushed and hair messy, absolutely fucking beautiful, and practically tears his shirt off, eyes never leaving Phil. There’s some complicated wrangling with his pants and shoes, but eventually he manages to tear off his pants. His boxers are next to go, and then his dick is slapping up against his stomach, thick, slightly curved, absolutely reddened and slick with precome. ‘Chris’ pushes his hips against nothing for a few moments, eyes shut so tightly he looks like he’s almost in pain before he opens them again and throws a look at Phil.

    “Hope you’ve got lube around here somewhere,” he pants, smiling haphazardly.

Phil stretches out on the bed, presenting himself a little.

    “Bedside table.” The bedside table is also where he keeps his small but distinguished collection of toys and, as predicted, ‘Chris’ gasps for breath slightly.

    “So how do I get to see you use these?” he asks, turning back around to Phil. He’s got the lube, but he’s also dangling the dark blue anal beads from his finger.

Phil grins and undulates slowly against the sheets. “Mmh, you have to buy me dinner for that.”

‘Chris’ laughs and tosses them somewhere behind him. Ordinarily Phil would object (he  _ loves _ those beads), but ‘Chris’ has his eyes fixed on him, lips almost curled to a snarl.

    “Hands and knees,” he growls. Phil complies easily, stretching his body out and then resting in a rather sexual puppy pose.

    “Shit, please tell me you do yoga.” ‘Chris’ runs his hand over the swell of Phil’s ass and he pushes back into it, purring a bit.

    “ _ And  _ I’m naturally very bendy.”

    “Fucking perfect,” ‘Chris’ mutters, licking over Phil’s spine. He shudders. This guy is proving to be an absolute bomb.

‘Chris’ teasingly runs his fingers over Phil’s hole, just the barest hint of pressure. Phil presses back immediately, and ‘Chris’ obligingly slides his finger inside. Phil sighs. Yeah, it’s definitely far, far better when it’s not your own fingers.

‘Chris’ teases almost gently, running his thumbnail over the rim. Phil groans softly into the pillow. ‘Chris’ nudges a second finger in, still so slowly and gently, curling them, spreading them, twisting on the outpull. 

    “Aaahh, fuck,” Phil breathes.

    “Enjoying yourself?”

    “God, yes.” ‘Chris’ spreads his fingers again, forcing Phil to open even further. “Fuck, your fingers are amazing.”

    “Your ass is amazing,” ‘Chris’ counters, spreading Phil’s cheeks. “You really were hoping to get lucky, huh? What with the shaving and the -” He curls his fingers again and that! That was a damn close call to Phil’s prostate.

    “Left,” he gasps out, suddenly a whole lot more preoccupied and unable to do smalltalk.

    “Huh?”

    “Do that again, but a little further left! Please!”

‘Chris’ laughs. “Why should I?” He nudges ever-so-close to Phil’s prostate again. “You’ve been pretty damn set on torturing me too, so why shouldn’t I get some revenge?” This time his fingers pass over the bundle of nerves lightning-quick. Phil gasps into the pillow, suddenly rock hard again. ‘Chris’ worms his other hand into Phil’s hair and forces his head up.

    “I wanna hear those sweet sounds you make,” he whispers into his ear, biting gently at the lobe. “Wanna hear you scream while I open you for my cock.” He pulls his fingers out, rubbing at the rim for a few far too long moments while Phil pants, little whimpers in his throat. 

    “Please,” he gasps out through this strained throat. “Please.”

‘Chris’ kisses him and pushes his fingers back in, fast, homing in on Phil’s prostate, sending burning hot sparks through his groin and up his spine and into his toes. Phil’s head falls forward again, ‘Chris’ letting it go, and he presses his forehead into the mattress, moaning desperately.

    “Again,” he demands.

‘Chris’ laughs again, the fucker, twisting his fingers perfectly over the little bundles of nerves. Phil’s toes curl and his hips thrust back of their own volition trying to fuck himself on ‘Chris’’ fingers. ‘Chris’ lets him, holding his fingers strong and steady, and Phil starts keening with every thrust. He doesn’t hit his prostate every time, but that only makes it better, little rivulets of sweat running down his back adding some extra stimulation, and then there’s the all-encompassing fire of ‘Chris’’ fingers. His partner plays with his cheeks, fingers quickly dipping down to press against his perineum, play with his balls, and stroking the inside of Phil’s thighs. Every damn thrust shakes Phil. Then ‘Chris’ starts pressing the pads of his fingers upwards, putting even more pressure on his prostate until Phil sobs, clawing hard enough at the sheet to nearly tear it. He’s on fire, every sensation on his skin extra sensation, heat pooling more and more in his gut, every thrust making him clench down. So, so close.

‘Chris’ pulls his fingers out.

Phil presses back against him, fruitlessly, until he understands.

    “No… no, please! Chris, please, please.” 

‘Chris’ presses gentle kisses to every  _ processus spinosus _ while he very carefully lubes up his fingers again, the slick sounds contrasting with the gentle touches of his lips, and going straight to Phil’s cock. Maybe it had been a bad idea to let Chris dominate him like that, because damn, Phil needs to come now, right now, with ‘Chris’’ beautiful fingers pressed against his prostate, and then another time with his cock.

    “Need to come, beautiful?” ‘Chris’ asks, right into Phil’s ear again. He shivers at the breath ghosting over his skin.

    “Please. Please.”

    “Think you can come a third time after that?” ‘Chris’ chest hair is dragging over Phil’s sweaty back, synapses shooting the sensation everywhere.

    “On your cock?” Phil grinds back against ‘Chris’ breathlessly. “Hell yeah.”

    “Good.”

Then ‘Chris’ pushes his fingers back inside, three this time, stretching Phil nicely, making him feel every knuckle. Phil whimpers as they hit his prostate, the barest hint of sensation, and it’s making him tighten up even more, the sheer anticipation.

    “Hmm, I’m wondering -” ‘Chris’ murmurs, and no, no, can’t he wonder later, not when Phil is so close? “- since you probably want to sleep in this bed, was wondering whether we shouldn’t maybe get a towel.” Phil can barely understand what the fuck ‘Chris’ is talking about, because god, he wants, he wants, he wants so badly. 

‘Chris’ pulls his fingers out. “Guess I’ll have to find the bathroom myself then.”

He’s back within moments, running a gentle hand over Phil’s spine.

    “You stayed in position. Man, it looks like you really want to be fucked.”

Phil whines in response, trying to spread his legs even farther. ‘Chris’ tucks the towel under him, running his fingers over Phil’s twitching dick, and then his fingers are back inside Phil’s ass. Phil groans and presses back immediately. ‘Chris’’ fingers hitting his prostate perfectly.

    “Come for me, Phil,” ‘Chris’ whispers into his ear, wrapping his fingers around his dick and tugging.

Phil shivers, entirely too on-edge, sensations shooting along his nerves, cock thrumming to the presses on his prostate.

    “Come for me,” ‘Chris’ says again, biting his neck, and Phil does, gasping into the pillow, clenching around ‘Chris’’ fingers, body undulating with the shockwaves.

‘Chris’ pulls his fingers out, petting Phil’s rim while he starts breathing again, having completely collapsed into the mattress.

    “Fuck, you’re attractive when you come.”

Phil pushes himself up and flops onto his back, still panting.

    “You got damn talented fingers,” he gets out, eyes half closed. “God.”

‘Chris’ runs his hand along the inside of Phil’s thigh.

    “I hope you’re not planning to nap now,” he teases.

Phil smiles blissfully. “Oh, I could.” He doesn’t need to look at ‘Chris’ to know he’s pouting, and again it’s scary how close he already feels to him. “Haven’t gotten any action in, hmm, aaaages, so what if I’m a little exhausted now?”

‘Chris’  _ pounces _ on him, biting his way up Phil’s chest and neck until he’s kissing him, harsh, nipping at Phil’s lips and forcing his tongue inside. Phil can’t help himself but run a hand up ‘Chris’’ arm, admiring the bunched-up muscles of his shoulders, strong neck. He threads his legs out from between ‘Chris’’ and wraps them around his hips instead, ‘Chris’ groaning appreciatively and nudging his pelvis against Phil’s.

    “Fuck, you’re gonna feel so good.” He kisses along Phil’s jaw again, hips already subtly thrusting against his skin.

Phil wiggles, and from the sound ‘Chris’ makes he obviously enjoys it. “All yours.”

‘Chris’ guides himself in, a broken sound leaving his throat. Phil tilts his hips upwards, going a bit cross-eyed as he’s finally, finally getting that beautiful dick. He’s so full, can feel it in his throat, and he’s not even anywhere close to getting hard again. 

    “So tight,” ‘Chris’ gasps against Phil’s neck, shaking with holding himself back. “So fucking hot, Phil, god.” 

    “Baise-moi,” Phil says, grinning stupidly at the ceiling. “Viens, baise-moi, donne-moi bien.”

    “I got no idea what that’s supposed to mean but please, please Phil, let me.”

    “Dieu, oui, s'il vous plaît.” ‘Chris’’ dick is almost burning and Phil needs it, needs it so badly.

‘Chris’ pushes himself up, haphazardly shoving his hair out of his face. He looks obviously desperate.

    “Please, please let me, Phil, oh God, I have no idea what you just said, but please.”

Phil laughs breathlessly and runs a hand through ‘Chris’’ hair.

    “Yeah. Yeah, go ahead, fuck me, put me into next week, please.”

‘Chris’ head falls back onto Phil’s clavicle and then he snaps his hips into Phil, dragging his cock over seemingly every nerve ending, littering shakey kisses over Phil’s neck, hand on his coccyx, pulling his hips up further. Phil locks his ankles behind ‘Chris’’ and presses back, nails digging grooves in his scapulae, and Phil is definitely fast on the road to recovery, because every snap of ‘Chris’’ hips sends sparks up Phil’s spine. ‘Chris’ changes the angle a bit and hits Phil’s prostate dead on. Phil gasps, half in shock, bucking back against ‘Chris’, the hot slick drag of the head of ‘Chris’’ dick against his prostate becoming the center of his universe.

‘Chris’ pulls back for a moment, brushing his hair out of his face again, a wild look in his eyes. Phil winks and lets his leg wander from around ‘Chris’’ waist to on his shoulder, and ‘Chris’ grins a bit maniacally.

    “Right. You’re bendy.”

    “Damn right I am.” 

‘Chris’ kisses the inside of Phil’s knee, suckling on the skin, and gives an experimental thrust of his hips, cock dragging perfectly over seemingly every nerve ending. ‘Chris’’ head falls back, lips opening of their own volition.

     “Fuck, feel so damn good, Phil, so fucking tight.” ‘Chris’ presses in deep again, slowing down as if to savour every sensation. He runs a hand down Phil’s leg to pet at where they’re joined, press gently against Phil’s perineum, and then up again, playing with Phil’s sac. Phil gasps out a shivery breath because he’s approaching oversensitive, clenching down even harder around ‘Chris’, making him moan high in his throat and thrust again and again, slowly but surely setting Phil on fire from the inside.

    “I’d love to see you ride me, move those hips, bounce on my dick, god, you’d look so fucking good, Phil, so damn beautiful.” ‘Chris’ is babbling now, clearly rapidly losing all higher brain functions.

    “Then let me.”

    “Seriously?”

    “Yeah. Just get on your back and let me have free rein to sit on your dick.”

‘Chris’ pulls out faster than humanly possible, dick slapping up wetly against his stomach, and he flops on his back. Phil grins and straddles him immediately. He’s already getting an idea on how sore he’ll be tomorrow. ‘Chris’’ dick catches on Phil’s rim before it slides through the cleft, twitching slightly.

    “Actually,” Phil says and grins at ‘Chris’. “I don’t think that’s the position I want.”

Before ‘Chris’ can object Phil turns around, pressing his ass out to rub against ‘Chris’’ dick, knees bracketing ‘Chris’’ hips.

    “I think you’re getting a better view like this,” he remarks coily over his shoulder. ‘Chris’ moans softly, already nudging his dick against Phil again. Phil rises up high on his knees and runs a hand over ‘Chris’’ dick, thumb dragging over the slit, before he puts two fingers inside himself, spreading his hole for ‘Chris’ to see, bending over a little.

    “Oh god, please, Phil,” the other man breathes, hands having settled on Phil’s hips.

Phil puts the head of ‘Chris’’ dick against his hole, letting it rest there for a few moments before slowly, carefully sliding down, clenching around ‘Chris’.

    “Fuck,” ‘Chris’ whispers, throat obviously dry. Phil grins and wiggles a little, pushing his ass out and rotating his hips a little.

    “You happy back there?” He asks with a smirk.

    “Fuck, yes. Your ass is so great, you could probably make a fortune selling it.”

Phil freezes for a second before he laughs, bucking his hips a little. “Wow, I don’t wanna know the kind of people you usually pick up if you expect that to work.” He lifts his hips, almost letting ‘Chris’ slip out, before slamming back down, quickly working up a fantastic rhythm that takes some pressure away from his prostate. ‘Chris’ is all whines and moans and a ton of sexy little sounds, squeezing the globes of Phil’s ass and playing with his rim, every thrust making ‘Chris’ make another sound from deep in his throat. Phil’s thighs quickly start aching pleasantly, every thrust ‘Chris’ gives back to him making another little shake strain them.

    “Turn around,” ‘Chris’ says suddenly, giving a soft little whimper as Phil stops moving. “Please, turn around, I wanna see you.”

Phil pulls off and turns around, delight blooming in his chest as he sees how absolutely wrecked ‘Chris’ looks.

    “Don’t tease me, Phil, please, just give it to me.”

Yeah. Yeah, ‘Chris’’d probably earned that. Phil spreads his legs some more and positions the lovely cock he's getting, and then he slides down again, spine bowing in pleasure. ‘Chris’ grabs his hips desperately, immediately trying to push deeper. Phil lets him, lets him lift Phil off and slam him down again, falling into a punishing rhythm that makes Phil see stars with every drag of ‘Chris’’ cockhead against his prostate. Phil's dick slaps against his stomach, adding to the lovely sounds of sex. ‘Chris’ is staring at him, biting his lips red, little sounds of encouragement escaping.

    “Fuck, you're taking it so well, like you were made for my cock, made for taking it. So beautiful, so fucking gorgeous, Phil, wanna do this forever, fuck, yes, yes, Phil, god, please.”

Phil laughs eventually, sanity quickly slipping against the rhythm of ‘Chris’’ cock in his ass, so deep and hard. He holds on to ‘Chris’’ forearms in a desperate attempt to balance himself. He's so close he can taste it, even though it's the third one.

    “God, fuck, Phil, please tell me you're fucking close, I can't - unf, can't stave it off much longer, but I want you to come on my dick, please.” He's desperate, he's obviously so fucking desperate for it. Phil wraps a hand around his dick and tugs roughly, shaking with every touch. It's too much, too much, and he comes with a quiet scream, shuddering apart on top of ‘Chris’. ‘’Chris’ gasps, swears softly, bucking his hips once, twice more, before flipping them around roughly, pounding into Phil, who blissfully takes it.

‘Chris’ groans lowly in his throats as he comes, hips snapping of their own volition, teeth buried in the soft skin of Phil's neck. Then he stills, and they both just breathe for a couple minutes.

Eventually, ‘Chris’ pulls out, dragging against Phil's painfully sensitive rim. Phil is barely even awake anymore - he registers ‘Chris’ haphazardly wiping them off with the towel, and then he's out like a light, post-orgasmic tingles delivering him into the sweetest dreams he's had for a long time.

  
  
  


Phil wakes up gradually, the world slowly filtering back in. He’s only aware of the presence next to him as he’s almost completely awake.

‘Chris’ is still there, the morning light that’s coming through the windows making his hair glow, which should look stupid and take the saturation out of it, but of course he makes it work. He’s lying on his side, one elbow propped up to rest his chin in his hand, watching Phil with some sort of quiet amusement.

    “Good morning!”

He’s a morning person. Great.

    “I would’ve made you breakfast, but then I thought you might not want to wake up to a nuclear war zone, so I didn’t.”

He’s a person who talks in the morning. Fucking fantastic.

Phil lets his face fall back into the pillow, groaning softly. What kind of caveperson talks before half a liter of caffeine?

    “Not a morning person?” ‘Chris’ is obviously delighted.

    “Fuck you,” Phil muffles into the pillow.

    “Now, don’t be so eloquent, doctor.”

Phil wants to flip him off, but he also kind of wants to get laid again and maybe grab coffee with the guy later (and date him and kiss him every night and “how was your day, darling?”, but that’s besides the point). He’s awake enough to know that being rude might diminish his chances of seeing (feeling) ‘Chris’ in action again, and really, getting fucked into the mattress again (by the way: he’s sore in all the right places. It’d been quite a while.) is far, far better than giving in to his grumpy, morning hating self. Fuck, ‘Chris’ is talented.

    “It’s way too fucking early,” he accuses no-one in particular, and ‘Chris’ giggles.

    “It’s oh-nine-oh-eight.”

    “My point exactly.

‘Chris’ - god, he should really ask the guy for his real name - runs a teasing finger over Phil’s spine and Phil sighs, almost dozing off again.

    “Lucky for you -”. It’s hard to concentrate with the way ‘Chris’ is touching him, completely non-sexual, palm of his hand over Phil’s shoulder blades, but it feels great. “- I’m a good cook.”

    “And a vegetarian.”

Phil pushes himself up to glare at ‘Chris’.

    “So what?”

    “I’m afraid that puts a definite damper on our great, poetic romance.” ‘Chris’ is grinning, but a tiny, hopeful part of Phil feels punched in the gut. Oh. Okay. ‘Chris’ is … decidedly not interested then. (‘And why would he be? Jesus, Phil, get a grip!’)

Instead, he sighs in mock-defeat.

    “There’s also a café just around the corner, where they cater to carnivores as well. Make damn good coffee too.”

    “Fantastic.”

Phil rolls on his side and observes ‘Chris’. He’s hot, of course, but there’s something else there too, a hardness like steel. Definitely not anybody.

    “You never told me what you were at the party for,” he asks, a bit shy. ‘Chris’ doesn’t seem like the kind of person who likes divulging personal information.

    “Eh. Same as you. Drinks, a good time, finding someone to spend the night with.”

    “Which ship are you stationed on?”

‘Chris’ watches him warily. “A ‘fleet one.”

    “Is Chris your real name?”

He snorts. “Yeah. No worse turn off than your partner screaming out the wrong name during orgasm because you didn’t give them the right one.”

    “Right.”

    “You don’t believe me.”

    “No, of course I don’t.”

‘Chris’ shrugs. “Can’t help that, I’m afraid.” There’s a hint of something Phil doesn’t recognize in his eyes, dark and hard. “Look … I don’t want to, I don’t know, crush your hopes or anything, but I’m shipping out tomorrow and I’ve got a meeting this afternoon so … this is a one-time thing for me.”

Phil grins. “I know. Wish it wasn’t, ’cause hey, you’re hot and not completely stupid and a bomb in bed, too, and it’d be nice to have you waiting on me in nothing but an apron when I come home, but I guess it’s not meant to be.”

‘Chris’ laughs. “Seriously, you do not want me to touch a kitchen.”

    “Oh, I don’t eat much at home. I’m more interested in the mental picture of you in a tiny apron.”

    “Well,  _ I’m _ much more interested in that café you were talking about.”

Phil shifts, morning erection dragging pleasantly against the sheets, and he wonders whether he can cajole ‘Chris’ into one last round of enthusiastic fucking.

    “See, here’s the problem: you’re going to leave me here, all alone, with nobody to fuck me as well as you did, so I think you should put out once more. I’ll buy you breakfast.”

‘Chris’ stares at him with wide eyes before beginning to laugh.

    “You have absolutely  _ no _ shame, oh my  _ god _ !”

Phil shrugs lazily. “Look, you’re damn good in the sack and this is probably the last time I’ll see you in my life; and once I have my assignment I’ll probably get stationed on the only ship in the ‘fleet where everyone is either ugly or female or straight or, if I, by some miracle, find someone willing to bang me, they’re probably not as good as you are. So I gotta make the most of having you in my bed.”

‘Chris’ chuckles and drags a hand over Phil’s spine, ending up with this fingers in his hair.

    “Well thank you for the endorsement.” He scoots closer and bites at Phil’s shoulder. “And if we’d spend more time together, you’d find out that the way into my heart really is through my stomach.” His fingers slide lower again, pushing back the sheet draped over Phil’s ass and gently dipping between his cheeks.

    “Fuck, you’re still wet.”

Phil stretches himself out some more. “Mhm. But if you go in without additional lube I’ll chop your dick off.”

‘Chris’ snorts. “Right, fine.”

He stretches out to the bedside table and grabs some, popping the cap one-handedly and lubing up his fingers. Phil moans and presses back against the intrusion. ‘Chris’ moves on top of him, and Phil spreads his legs readily, and then ‘Chris’ presses inside again. Phil buries his groan in the pillow. He’s sore from last night and of course ‘Chris’ managed to grab the heating lube, so there are a ton of sensations going on back there.

‘Chris’ settles, gasping hot breath onto Phil’s neck.

    “Fuck, you still feel so fucking good, so tight.”

Phil clenches and predictably, ‘Chris’ twitches and groans.

    “Come on, fuck me already.”

‘Chris’ growls and snaps his hips forward quickly, Phil crying out with the sudden sensation.

    “Aah, wait a second, now where was ... “ Chris trails off and twists a little, changing his angle until shoving in again. He hits Phil’s prostate, hard and hot and heavy, and begins pistoning his hips in and out, setting heavy bites all over Phil’s shoulders and neck, strong fingers encircling Phil’s wrists and holding them over his head while he fucks into him, and fuck, that is such a turn off, technically; being absolutely mercilessly held down, completely immobile, tripping pretty much every trigger of Phil’s, but Chris makes it work. Again, the incredible amount of trust Phil puts into this stranger should terrify him, but it’s hard to think when there’s a dick so hot and hard inside of him, rubbing over all the good spots, electricity shooting up Phil’s spine and heat pooling in his gut. Every thrust nudges his dick against some creases in the sheet, wet and sticky with precome already, rough enough to feel really damn good.

Phil comes sobbing into his pillow, knocking his hips back erratically and tightening around ‘Chris’, who doesn’t stop until he’s fucked Phil all the way through his orgasm. He comes with a low moan bitten into the side of Phil’s neck.

They both pant harshly for a couple minutes until ‘Chris’ rolls off of Phil, flopping onto his back.

    “Best ass in the galaxy, that’s for sure.”

Phil huffs. “Best dick in the galaxy.”

    “Why, thank you.”

Phil's stomach takes that as its cue to growl loudly, and they both laugh. 

    “You wore me out,” Phil accuses.

    “You said you'd buy me breakfast,” ‘Chris’ counters.

    “That I did. Shower?”

    “Alone; I doubt it'd be a particularly productive one if we'd take it together.”

    “Fair. You go ahead, I'll try to find a shirt or a jacket that might fit you. Think I owe you, considering how I ripped your dress uniform. There should be a spare toothbrush in the dresser under the mirror.”

    “Cool, thanks.” And off Chris goes. It feels like the first goodbye. God, Phil really hopes it won't develop into a crush. He doesn't have the time to cry after a one night stand. Well. One night and one morning.

  
  


Breakfast with ‘Chris’ turns out to be  _ hilarious _ . They talk about Starfleet cadets - unequivocally agreeing that they're the worst and when they were in that age, they were nowhere near as bad. They talk about the concept for the  _ Lancelot _ class, which leads them to a discussion about space depression, which leads them to astrophysics, which Phil doesn't know too much about, but thoroughly enjoys ‘Chris’’ insights on.

It's like a date, except ‘Chris’ isn't interested and will be off planet tomorrow.

Phil gets an amazingly filthy parting kiss and the loose promise to hook up again when they maybe see each other on a Starbase, and then ‘Chris’ is gone like he was never there. Phil turns around and heads home.

His bedroom smells like them and the sheets are still damp with sweat. He should probably change them. (He doesn't.) There’s also ‘Chris’’ destroyed jacket hanging over the back of the couch. Phil picks it up and inhales the smell.

It's like ‘Chris’ changed his entire life just by fucking Phil into the mattress twice.

  
  


He’s a bit late for his shift, but he hopes nobody notices.

    “Well  _ someone _ got laid tonight,” Martha says as way of greeting, smiling cheerfully. The elderly couple she seems to be talking to at the moment fluster immediately, and so does Phil. He loves Martha, trusts her implicitly, and if he had to name a favorite nurse he’d name her without a moment’s hesitation, and he also considers her one of his few close friends. But that doesn’t mean that such crudeness in public embarrasses him any less.

    “Tell me all about him later!”

He tries to ignore her, cheeks on fire, and ducks into his office.

She shows up a few minutes later, carrying a steaming mug of coffee as an apology. He wants to glare at her and be angry so, so badly.

    “So!” She scoots close to him with the chair she appropriated. “I’m incredibly happy your bad case of blue balls is now alleviated, and you have the bearing of a man who had the time of his life, not to mention a lovely looking, barely covered hickie, so it must’ve been a very special guy if you let him mark you up. Tell me!”

Phil sighs and takes a sip of his coffee. It’s scalding hot and perfect.

    “He was perfect. Tall, built, gorgeous blond hair, long enough to play with, beautiful grey eyes … smart. Teasing. Great smile. Fantastic voice. Skilled fingers. A god in bed. Literally sex on legs. The second I put eyes on him I knew I wanted him.” Phil groans and hides his face in his hands.

    “Oh my god, Philip. You’re in  _ love _ !”

    “I’m not in love, Martha, come on, I just met the guy. I don’t even know his name!”

    “Wait what?”

    “I just - I don’t know, I felt something with him.”

She giggles. “Yeah, from the way you can’t sit still I  _ bet _ you felt  _ something _ .”

He throws a stylus at her.

    “No, seriously. There was something. I trusted him pretty much immediately. It was like .. not like we were meant to be or something, just … I trusted him.”

    “Wow. Okay. Are you sure he didn’t slip you something?”

Phil’s mind flashes back to ‘Chris’ stealing the sugar from the rim of his glass, the only time the other man touched his drink. Could he …? But no, Phil hadn’t touched his drink after that.

    “I know it’s stupid. But … there was something. I liked him.” He sighs. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll see him again one day. Those command types get themselves injured all the time, and if I really do get assigned to a ‘ship - I don’t know, I might meet him again.”

    “At the very least you got laid.”

    “Yeah, and I’ll be thinking about it for the rest of my life. Man, he was fantastic.”

    “Dick size?”

    “Oh for - Martha!”

    “What?! A girl is allowed to be curious!”

    “Like I said, he was perfect. Beautiful, gorgeous, everything you could ever want. Exactly who I’d hoped to find. Mmh.” Phil pillows his head on his arms and stares into the distance. “God, he was gorgeous. And funny. We had breakfast together this morning, and … whoever he was, he was hilarious and smart and witty and I want to talk to him forever. Fuck, maybe I am in love.”

Martha snickers again. “Sounds like you had the time of your life, and some very well deserved rec time.”

    “That I did, that I did …” Phil trails off, remembering the way ‘Chris’ kisses, subtly incredibly dominant, and part of Phil wants to put him in his place, make him do what Phil wants, hear him beg.

Martha pats him on the shoulder. “I gotta go back out - we’re a bit understaffed today. You enjoy your daydream. Don’t forget your rounds!”

Phil nods, still a little spaced out. He’ll never forget those eyes. Hard, but also filled with mirth, and not the quiet enjoyment Phil gets from life … something different, something more energetic. And those hands, fuck, those hands.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~

 

His first assignment is the  _ Regulus _ , a heavy duty border patrol ship, some good twenty years old and more than needing a refit. The officers are more brawny than Phil imagined, hard on the edges and not too welcoming of him, even though he manages to bring the yearly fatalities down to twelve percent, which is stunning for the kind of work the  _ Regulus _ does. She gets into more firefights per year than the average starship in her lifetime and due to a lack of patrol ships she’s falling more and more into disrepair, Starfleet only ever sending out new hands to restaff.

It’s … not what Phil imagined. Not what he wanted. Of course everyone dreams of being assigned to a shiny new ship, discover exciting planets and space anomalies; he knew that the reality would look quite different, but he hadn’t thought it would look so drab and dark.

He gets the recommendation for CMO onboard a deep space cruiser within two years, the  _ Regulus _ ’ CMO immediately fond of him, but it takes another three years until he’s transferred - back to Earth, where he waits for another eight months for his ship, the  _ Yorktown _ to be completed and her captain to end their current assignment. He uses his time to complete the psychology degree he’d been working on for a while, and then he spends his time at ‘fleet Medical, reconnecting with old colleagues and friends. Martha worms out of him that yes, he had actively been searching for Chris’es to have sex with, if at all, but that he hadn’t found his Chris again, and she laughs a lot.

    “You know, what if he’s your new captain? You are reassigned, right?”

    “God, I hope not. And yes, I’ll be on the  _ Yorktown _ , once they manage to complete her. She’s six months overdue by now.”

    “No way! The  _ Yorktown _ ! She’s a pretty one. Starfleet’s pride and joy.”

    “Yeah … can’t be worse than the  _ Regulus _ .”

Martha waves a hand in dismissal. “Heavy duty border patrol vehicle that’s older than my grandma. Please. Everything is better than those.”

 

Phil finally gets the summons for the staff meeting three days later. Ironically, his captain is named Chris - Christopher Pike. He doesn’t bother looking up the guy’s face because hey, what even are the chances? He’s (mostly) over ‘Chris’ anyways, only keeping the memories alive for lonely nights. He might have a lot of those, so the memories are very alive, but that doesn’t matter.

When he walks into the meeting room a bit too early, all decked out in his uniform, hair not as messy as he usually keeps it, there’s only one occupant so far. He’s sprawled in the chair at the head, fiddling with a PADD, and the two full and one half stripes denounce him to be Phil’s new captain. He looks up as Phil enters the room, a lock of burnished blond hair that’s a bit longer than regulation allows falling into his eyes. His eyes lock onto Phil, and it’s different now that they’re in a professional environment and not at a party, but there’s no doubt that Captain Pike is ‘Chris’. 

Phil’s heart misses a beat. He remembers Chris on his knees, swallowing down his dick; how he mouthed at Phil’s neck; the sounds he made when he pushed inside of Phil; his quiet endorsements as he watched Phil fuck himself on his dick; his face when he came. 

The room is stifling all of a sudden, dress uniform choking him and what would he say anyways? 

More importantly, what does he  _ do _ , just walk up to the guy and say hi and pretend he isn’t hard as a rock in his pants? Beg him for a repeat performance? Just get on his knees? Fuck, Chris -  _ Captain Pike  _ probably doesn’t even remember!

Chr- Pike sets the PADD down with a flourish.

    “Doctor Boyce! Fantastic to meet you!” He’s still all boyish grin, but he grew into those long limbs some more, put on some more muscle, voice just a hint deeper, grip on Phil’s hand sure and strong.

    “Captain Pike,” he manages, dizzy with Chris’ presence.

Lieutenant Commander Number One’s entrance somewhat saves Phil and gives him a moment to breathe as Pike goes to greet her.

 

He doesn’t know how he keeps his head level throughout the meeting, and his entire trip home is filled with nothing but Chris. It’s not at all hard to find the resemblance between Chris and Captain Pike, and Phil wonders what he’d be like now, with almost six years more experience. He really shouldn’t think things like this about his CO, especially not his brand new CO, but he wants so badly.

A quick image search gives him tons of beautiful, beautiful pictures of Pike, and he randomly selects one to send to Martha.

She replies only moments later:  _ So, um, surprise, but that dude isn’t just pretty damn cute, but also my new captain … surprise? I got myself assigned and we’ll see each other on the  _ Yorktown _!! _

Phil stares at that message for a minute.

_ What?! _

_ Yeah, I know :P _

_ But he’s cute, isn’t he? _

_ Martha … he’s Chris _

She rings him immediately.

    “ _ That  _ Chris?” she asks, mouth vaguely o-shaped.

    “Yeah.”

    “Oh my god,” she gasps. “Oh my god! What are you going to do?!”

Phil runs a hand over his face.

    “Fuck if I know.”

    “Does he remember?”

Does he? It didn’t seem like he did. Probably he doesn’t, since it’s been six years. Who would remember (other than a sociophobe with no considerable sex life)?

    “Uh, I don’t think so… It’s probably for the better. I’m happy you’ll be on the  _ Yorktown _ though!”

    “Oh nononono, don’t make this about me. Phil what are you going to do? How do you even stand being in a room with the one guy you’ve been thinking about for more than half a decade?”

    “Like I said, I don’t know. I probably embarrassed myself majorly in the staff meeting, and I could barely think straight or take my eyes off him. It was bad. I have no idea how to survive on a ship with him, but I can’t get a reassignment either.”

    “Philip. Seriously, if you’d get a reassignment, I’d kill you myself. CMO onboard the new flagship is the best thing for your career you could think of, and it’s what you deserve. You just have to find a way to get that damn captain out of your mind.”

Phil sighs. “I know. I just … don’t know how, I feel like I’m in too deep.”

    “The  _ Yorktown _ is big enough and you’ll have enough work that you won’t see him too often, and I’ll do everything I can to find a beautiful young lieutenant you can focus your affections on. You’ll be fine.”

    “You do realize that frat regs are still a thing? The only people on the ship that I can legally sleep with are the captain or the first officer. Because we’re the only three people of equal power, so to speak. If one of them goes nuts and the other one follows suit because they’re in love with them, the third person can stop them, and so forth.”

Martha shrugs. “Alright, bang the first officer, problem solved.”

    “She’s female.”

    “Oh. Well, sucks for you, um … I suppose becoming heterosexual all of a sudden isn’t going to happen?”

Phil grins despite himself. “At the very least it’d be difficult.”

    “Hm. That sucks.”

 

It does. Because the problem isn’t just that Phil found the guy he’s been lusting after for years; it isn’t just that this guy is his superior; it is that he’s now even hotter than before, pure sex on legs, seemingly no memory of Phil, and Phil will have to work closely with the guy. He is so fucked.  
Oh god, he'll probably have to do the newly reinstated prostate exams on the guy. The vision of Chris, lying flustered, blushing and absolutely fucked out over a table, comes to his mind unbidden. 'I'm afraid I'll have to insert something a bit ... bigger, to make sure everything really is working properly,' he says, and Chris nods, completely besides himself.  
Phil is so fucked.

 

He spends a while scrolling through the pictures of Chr- of Pike. They’re all official, so he’s in uniform and often in dress uniform. Commendation for this, Medal of Honor for that, looking always either lovely, sometimes cute, and always hot as fuck. Phil stops at one that seems oddly familiar.  _ Christopher Pike, promoted to captain.  _ Phil stares at the uniform he’s wearing in the picture, stares at the stardate and connects the dots. He’d picked Chris up from his own promotion party, ripped his brand new dress uniform and had incredibly hot and incredibly fantastic sex with him. They’d done it without barrier film. Hell, Phil hadn’t even gotten himself checked afterwards. Starfleet’s youngest, best and brightest captain - and Phil still had the promotion dress uniform. 

And it’s not like Christopher Pike is the only Pike Phil has ever heard about. The family is pretty much 'fleet famous. There’s Commodore Pike, now admiral, who single-handedly hardassed his way to a fantastic resolution of the Beluga incident; Charlotte Pike, probably Chris’ mother, a brilliant biologist with a focus on underdeveloped humanoid species; Honorary Commander Pike, first name probably Marsha, one of Starfleet’s most esteemed lawyers; Grace and Helby Pike, twins, the best navigator-pilot team in the ‘fleet; and those are just the one’s Phil remembers ad hoc. 

So he hadn’t been that wrong about Chris probably having a trust fund. 

Phil sighs and sets the PADD aside. God, he hopes he can somehow make it through his service under Chris Pike without the man finding out about Phil’s infatuation. Or, heh, he’d also gladly serve under him the other way.

He glares at Phil Junior, who has been tremendously interested ever since Phil found the pictures. Well, fuck. Time to get the jacket then. Not that it still smells of Chris at all, but it has come in very … handy.

Yes, Phil is that pathetic. Ugh.

And if he’s not completely wrong, it won’t be the last time he accidentally gasps out his new CO’s name when he comes.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading =^,^= If you liked it, please leave me a comment!
> 
> Also come say hi on [my tumblr](http://nerdqueenenterprise.tumblr.com)! Maybe shoot me a prompt?


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